Raven turned when he heard the boy's voice.
His gaze sharpened as he finally looked at him properly. The boy was about the same height, with messy dark-orange hair and soft brown eyes. Slightly chubby, not enough to call him fat, just round at the edges. His features weren't striking, but there was a certain awkward charm to him. The kind that made people describe someone as "kind of cute."?
Raven said nothing at first. He simply studied him in silence.
He wasn't some saint looking to help people. He wasn't a hero. His only goal in this place was survival. He hadn't even tried to help those people being torn apart earlier. So why would he drag someone like this along and risk slowing himself down?
He wasn't about to gamble his life for someone he didn't even know.
But still, some part of him knew he couldn't completely ignore the attempt.
"…What's your name?" he finally asked.
If they were going to talk at all, it was better to know each other's names first.
"O-oh, me? I'm Chris," the boy answered, nervous but trying not to show it.
"I'm Raven," he replied shortly, turning back to the shelves to inspect the available weapons.
He said nothing else.
Chris waited for more, anything, but it didn't come. Raven's silence was his answer. A quiet, unspoken "no."
He didn't think Chris could fight. That much was obvious. The kid probably hadn't lifted anything heavier than a backpack, let alone faced the nightmare that now crawled outside. Taking him along would only make things worse.
Still, Chris asked.
"So… is that a no?"
There was a brief pause.
"…Can I ask you something?" Raven said suddenly.
Chris blinked, unsure what to say, but nodded slowly.
Raven didn't look at him. Instead, he stared at the cold, silent weapons on the shelf.
"What are you living for?"
It was a strange question, especially now.
Chris tilted his head, confused. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Raven didn't respond immediately. The silence between them grew heavier.
Earlier, while Raven fought the undead and pushed through the chaos, a question had been stirring in his mind. Something deeper than survival. Something colder than fear.
What exactly was he fighting for?
He told himself he wanted to rise above his old life. That he didn't want to be a nobody anymore. That he wanted to live.
But was that really true?
He'd walked past the dying. Ignored the screaming. Felt nothing when others fell. So what was this all for?
He was human, but so were the undead. The only difference was that he was alive, and they weren't. If he died fighting them, wouldn't it all be meaningless?
The death didn't scare him, not by a long mile.
It was the idea that his life held no purpose. That he might die never having found one.
That was far more terrifying.
He hadn't asked himself this before. He thought no one did. People just lived because… that's what they were supposed to do, right?
But what was he supposed to live for?
He felt like a cockroach clinging to scraps, stepping lightly through the cracks of a world that had already crushed him once.
"Why do you want to live?" he repeated, softer now.
Chris hesitated. He didn't know how to respond. The question felt too heavy for him, like someone had dropped a mountain onto his shoulders.
Why did people want to live?
For their loved ones? Out of fear of death? Or because hope lingered in even the worst places?
Before Chris could gather his thoughts, Raven waved a hand dismissively.
"Forget it," he muttered. "It doesn't matter."
He'd hoped to find an answer in someone else's words. But even now, he knew, he wouldn't find it from anyone.
Not yet.
His mind wandered, unbidden, into the depths of his memories, the memories of his past... his family.
---
"Hey, look! Raven's all gloomy again!"
"C'mon, dude! Sister Lily will be back soon!"
"Aww, look! He's missing her! What a baby!"
Laughter. Warm, carefree laughter.
Voices full of light and radiance.
But light doesn't last forever.
"R-Run… Raven. Run!"
"I-It hurts… I don't wanna die…"
The joyful echoes turned into screams.
Flesh torn. Blood spilled. Eyes full of horror.
Then, silence.
---
None of them were blood-related to him. But they were his family. And like everything else in his life, they were now gone.
He blinked and forced the thoughts away.
Would things be different if they were still here?
Maybe. But they weren't. And he was still standing.
That had to mean something.
"I will try," he whispered, almost too low to hear.
That's when Chris spoke again.
"Hey," he said, voice steadier this time. "I know I might not be much help in a fight… but I can fix things. I'm good with machines and tools. I can reinforce your weapon, maybe make it stronger. Would… would that be enough?"
Raven turned slightly.
Chris had that same nervous look in his eyes, but also something else. A quiet resolve. Like someone who had chosen to move, even if their legs still shook.
He'd revealed a piece of himself. A skill.
***
Thanks for reading.
Though there is no one reading.